Most of this year had been dominated by counselling. First it was every Tuesday. Then every other Tuesday. And now I hope it will be just one Tuesday every month.
When your health places so many restrictions on your life, like my health does, something like an emotional weekly session completely dominates the remainder of your time. The preparation rest. The recovery rest. The exertion of getting there, albeit only minutes away. The concentration and cognitive function needed to get through the 50 minutes. And then the emotions themselves. It wasn’t something I entered into lightly but you’ll likely know by now that it is my struggle with childlessness that led me to seeking help. (I plead you not to offer any unsolicited advice on this.)
At the start of the year I wanted to make something of as many Wednesdays as I possibly could. They are the only day I have to myself. They are sacred. But then I started counselling and so my weeks have been spent recovering from each session in the many ways one needs to.
Perhaps it’s a strange thing for me to crave; these days to myself. Afterall I live such an isolated life. It’s just that it’s the one day I can properly relax because no-one is expected to call in at all during the day. Rightly or wrongly, if someone is coming at 1pm the morning just isn’t as relaxing beforehand. And there’s something different about having nice time to myself, as opposed to the enforced solitude of Bed Days when I am too unwell for any company.
So now I hope I can manage on monthly counselling sessions, in the hope that I can get a little bit of my little life back. I feel it’s time, and I’m looking forward to making something of my Wednesdays again.